


straight on till morning

by andnowforyaya



Series: or forever hold your peace (kiho) [3]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, KiHo Bingo, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Organized Crime, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: Kihyun wakes up, and Hoseok dreams of a new life for them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the 'insanity' square in my kiho bingo card

At first, Hoseok didn't even notice that Kihyun was awake. He'd been absent-mindedly carding his fingers through Kihyun's hair, humming an old song under his breath, thinking about how he'd understand if Kihyun never forgave him this. The dark bruises under Kihyun's eyes looked so deep they seemed tattooed on, and his lips were dry, cracked in some places, dark red with dried blood in others.

And then his lips moved.

“Where…?” Kihyun murmured, his voice thin and broken like the rest of him. He coughed and winced at how the movement jarred his body.

“Shh, shh, baby,” Hoseok said. His voice was shaking and his eyes were burning again. He was trying to keep himself together because somehow he didn't think now was the time to shout for joy and celebrate that Kihyun was awake, to crush him against his chest, to kiss him until he could no longer breathe, not now when Kihyun felt so delicate in his lap that a strong breath might shatter him. “You're in my apartment, just outside Seoul. Remember that?”

Kihyun looked up at him, his gaze trailing slowly up Hoseok's chest and settling on his face. Kihyun's eyes were dark and dull, like the light had gone right out of them. He wasn't looking at Hoseok at all, but at something past him. “Are we gonna fuck?”

He said it so casually, stripped of emotion, that it took seconds for Hoseok to understand the question, and when he did, he felt his heart had been ripped from his chest, leaving a gaping hole and wound. “What?” Hoseok asked, disbelief making him breathless and his fingers freeze in Kihyun's hair. “No -- Kihyunnie, it's me. It's Hoseok. We're here to -- keep you safe.”

“Hoseok?” Kihyun repeated.

Hoseok nodded, brushing Kihyun's hair to the side gently. “It's me, baby.”

“Hoseok,” Kihyun gasped, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears in realization. They spilled out past the corners and to his ears and dripped onto Hoseok's pants. He turned onto his side slowly, like he was aching with fever chills, and pressed his face against Hoseok's stomach, his hand moving to hold Hoseok's shirt in a weak grasp. He kept murmuring Hoseok's name over and over as he cried, and Hoseok felt his heart skip a beat with each utterance of his name.

The older man drew him closer, hugging Kihyun toward his chest, and the jacket covering Kihyun's body slipped so that the fabric pooled over his belly. “I'm sorry,” Hoseok said, eyes traveling over the bruises decorating Kihyun's ribs, the new scars and fresh scabs. There were needle tracks on the inside of Kihyun's elbow. Hoseok felt sick to his stomach. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry, baby.”

Kihyun cried quietly as Hoseok recounted his sins aloud, his own tears running freely down his cheeks.

“I shouldn't have left you there,” Hoseok said. “I shouldn't have left you. I should have looked harder. I never should have believed my father would do what he promised. I made so many mistakes, Kihyun.”

Kihyun didn't seem to hear anything he was saying, lost in a haze. He scratched at the insides of his elbows and shivered in Hoseok's hold, the tremors interrupting his cries. “‘s cold,” he said, bringing his knees closer to his chest.

Hoseok shuddered and sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself. He felt powerless. It was not a wholly unfamiliar feeling to him, but it still made him uncomfortable. He couldn't afford to feel powerless now when it was clear that Kihyun needed him to be more. He kissed the top of Kihyun's head and took a deep breath. “Should we get you cleaned up?” he asked. “Run a warm bath. Clean your -- your wounds.”

Kihyun didn't move from being pressed against Hoseok's chest. He said, “Don't let me go,” which didn't answer Hoseok's question, but it was enough, and Hoseok nodded and kissed Kihyun's forehead.

“I'll never let you go again,” he promised. 

.

Kihyun fell asleep against Hoseok's chest in the bath, the warm soapy water lapping at their sides. As Hoseok carefully washed Kihyun with the softest towel he found in the closet, he tried to stifle his sobs so that he wouldn't interrupt Kihyun's from sleep. The water cooled slowly. The scene was like a sadistic mockery of what they had just a few months ago: the two lovers relaxing against each other in the tub, kissing each other, the water sloshing over the sides and nearly flooding the tiled floor as Kihyun rode him. Hoseok wondered if he'd ever have that again, and then he thought that he should be grateful that Kihyun was even letting him do this. Letting him hold him and touch him and kiss him.

When Hoseok brought Kihyun out of the bath, the younger man awoke for just long enough to be dried off and guided to the bed. Hoseok laid him upon it and told him he would be retrieving the first aid kit, and by the time he returned, Kihyun had closed his eyes, so Hoseok got to work disinfecting and cleaning and dressing the burns and cuts he could see.

None were very large or deep. Most of the burns clustered in a spot over his chest on the right side, and the cuts were not serious. Hoseok cleaned and dressed each one stoically, turning Kihyun onto his side to get at the injuries on his back, but by the end of it his fingers were trembling. He knelt at Kihyun's side by the bed and brushed his fingers through Kihyun's hair and kissed his forehead again. He wanted Kihyun to awaken so that he could beg him for forgiveness, but he also wanted Kihyun to sleep so that he could rest. He dressed Kihyun in a pair of his old, comfortable sweats and pulled the covers on the bed over him up to his chin, tucking him in.

“I'll be right back,” he said to the quiet air.

He left the door open to the bedroom open and padded into the kitchen, wondering when Minhyuk and Hyungwon would return -- _if_ they would return -- as he rummaged through the cabinets for the ingredients he would need to make a simple rice porridge. He had so many questions. Where had Kihyun been kept? What had been done to him? By whom? Were they dead, casualties of Kihyun’s escape?

He owed Minhyuk so much, and he supposed he owed Hyungwon, too. He would find a way to pay them back. 

While the porridge was bubbling away on the stove, Hoseok stepped back and leaned against the counter, head bowed in thought. He went through his plan again, which was, in many respects, very simple: let Kihyun heal, and then get out of the country. He knew someone in Thailand, a South Korean ex-pat named Jooheon, who would hide them and move them to their next location -- or hide and move just Kihyun, if that was what Kihyun wanted, instead. He could arrange for Kihyun to escape alone, as he could easily see a version of the truth where Kihyun would want nothing to do with Hoseok once he was well enough to be on his own.

If they fled together, it wouldn’t be too difficult for Hoseok to leave, as his father gave him a long leash, but it would be difficult to stay hidden once the family realized Hoseok was gone.

The doorknob jiggled at the front door. Hoseok tensed, ears perked, and reached for the handgun he kept pinned against the wall in one of the overhead cabinets, behind the spices. There were a few pieces hidden around the apartment -- one under the couch, one under the bed, and one hidden behind cleaning supplies in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom. But then he recognized the voices on the other side and sighed.

Minhyuk and Hyungwon came inside, quiet and speaking in low voices to each other. Minhyuk chuckled upon seeing Hoseok's hand raised near the cabinet. “Nice reflexes," he commented, eyes glimmering.

“I could have shot you,” Hoseok said.

“Not a great way to say thanks for saving the love of your life, hm?” Minhyuk said impishly.

Hoseok looked them both over. Minhyuk had a black eye, and Hyungwon had a busted lip, but other than that they seemed whole and fine. They were dressed to blend in, wearing dark clothes and jackets that Hoseok was sure had hidden pockets and seams for weaponry. He knew Minhyuk favored his Glock and wondered if Hyungwon had a preferred weapon.

“We stopped by the hospital,” Hyungwon said, stepping forward after he had taken off his shoes and producing a black pouch from the inside of his jacket. “Changkyun was helpful. And cute.” He winked at Minhyuk, and Minhyuk rolled his eyes. The image of them both comfortable in Hoseok's apartment in socked feet struck Hoseok as ironic. Here were two soft-footed killers, being careful and respectful of Hoseok's hardwood floors.

“What did you tell him?” Hoseok asked.

“Just that you had a friend who needed help.” Hyungwon put the pouch on the counter in front of Hoseok, and the contents rattled inside.

“He said, and I quote, ‘As a medical professional I feel morally obligated to provide some form of assistance, even if it feels underhanded and sinister in nature.’” Minhyuk laughed at his own impression of the doctor. “He wrote out all these instructions. And then he said he was only giving us enough for a couple of days because he wanted us to come back to him for more supply so that he can monitor how your friend is doing.”

“Don't be fooled,” Hoseok said mostly to Hyungwon. “Changkyun is just nosy.”

“But he knows what he's doing,” Hyungwon said, more serious than Minhyuk. He leaned on the kitchen counter also, and Minhyuk moved to stand by his side, creating a barrier between Hoseok and the living room. “He knows someone needs to keep a close eye on Kihyun.”

“And it needs to be more than just you,” Minhyuk added smoothly. “You'll need support. We can support.”

Hyungwon nodded. It was clear to Hoseok that Minhyuk and Hyungwon had come to some sort of agreement. It was like they had rehearsed. He felt a strange mix of emotions swelling up inside him -- gratefulness and awe and confusion and wariness. Why would Hyungwon, a complete stranger, agree to this?

“I couldn't ask you to do that,” Hoseok said, shaking his head. “You've both done more than enough.”

“You don't have to ask,” Minhyuk said with a kind smile. “Besides, Hyungwon makes a great nurse. You should see him in a skimpy nurse costume.”

“You should not,” Hyungwon quickly interjected. “And you should not ask about it, either, because it was one time Minhyuk, oh my god.”

Minhyuk shrugged, drawing his lower lip in between his teeth as he looked Hyungwon up and down lasciviously.

“We can do shifts,” Hyungwon proposed. “From what I understand,” he continued, eyes on Hoseok, “you'll need to make the occasional appearance to your family to minimize suspicion.”

Hoseok narrowed his eyes. He directed his accusatory glare at Minhyuk as well, but Minhyuk didn't seem phased. “And what else do you understand?” Hoseok asked.

Hyungwon said, “That you fell in love. That Kihyun fought. That maybe you didn't fight hard enough.”

At this, Minhyuk dropped his eyes to the floor, and Hoseok felt something like shame curdle in his gut. He recognized his cowardice for himself, but for a stranger, an outsider, to see it so clearly? He had failed, and it would take forever for him to make up for his failure. Maybe he would never make up for it completely. “Yeah,” Hoseok said, the words coming out thickly, “you're right about that.”

Minhyuk and Hyungwon looked at each other subtly and it reminded Hoseok of the way his parents used to look at each other when he had done or said something they didn't like or approve of, and it made Hoseok feel small, and that feeling of smallness quickly turned into restless frustration. He stomped between them and through them and went into the living room, and they both followed at his heels. Hyungwon brought the pouch from the hospital with him.

"I want to figure this out," Hoseok stated, gesturing to the pouch.

Together, they sat on the couch and looked through what Changkyun had provided them, the instructions written in neat script on a small yellow sheet of paper torn from a prescription pad, a few little plastic baggies filled with a cocktail of pills, each baggie one recommended dose of antidepressants and Suboxone and pain relievers.

Minhyuk whistled through his teeth as he rifled carefully through the baggies on the coffee table. “Little guy needs all this?”

“Dope detox isn't easy,” Hyungwon said, not quite looking at either of them. “He'll get sick. He'll fight you for drugs. The chemicals in his brain are out of whack, so he'll do things that might surprise you.”

“You've seen it before?” Hoseok asked, and Hyungwon’s lips twitched into a self-deprecating smile.

“I've been through it,” he said. “It's torture.”

“Is that why you helped?” Hoseok asked. He couldn't keep the image of Kihyun sinking down into the blank euphoria of the drug out of his mind. What had it been like, the first time? Was it forced? Coerced? He had the sudden perverse desire to force his father into the same situation, to suffer as Kihyun did, but Hoseok didn't even know half of what had been done to Kihyun and felt a hard knot of despair form deep inside of him when he allowed himself to imagine it.

“Yes and no,” Hyungwon said, bringing Hoseok out of his thoughts. “I agreed to help because I owed Minhyuk. But I'll stay because I know what it's like, and neither of you deserved this.”

Hoseok laughed, but it was dark and bitter. He said, “No. I deserved it. I deserved to be where Kihyun was, is. That should have been me.”

“Don't say shit like that,” Minhyuk said quickly, his words as harsh as a whip cracking in the air. “You can't help that your father is a sadistic fuck.”

Hoseok wanted the cushions on the couch to open up and devour him whole. He hung his head and let his face fall into his hands so that they wouldn’t see him cry, Minhyuk's words chipping away at the last of Hoseok's carefully structured walls, because it was true, and what it all boiled down to was that Hoseok knew this about his father and family and he still selfishly left Kihyun to fend for himself. 

“I let him go,” he said, crying. “I let my father do this to him. I let him win.”

He felt Minhyuk shift closer and put his arm around his shoulders, like he was a kid who needed to be comforted after being told his favorite toy was found broken. He tried to shrug him off but Minhyuk only moved with him, fluid, his arm snug where it was.

“Get it all out, now, Hoseok,” Minhyuk said, “because this part isn’t going to be easy.”

Hoseok cried. He mourned for what had been lost between he and Kihyun, and for what had been stolen from them both: time, and intimacy, and trust. He hoped that love had not been taken away from them as well.

.


	2. Chapter 2

They spoke in the living room until the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. In their conversation, they eventually decided that Minhyuk and Hyungwon would take shifts watching Kihyun, and both would be staying at the apartment for the time it took for him to recover so that Hoseok could continue about his regular life, so that Hoseok’s absence from his family and his home with Dasom wouldn't raise suspicion. Hoseok learned from the two con men that, when they escaped the club where Kihyun had been kept, they had staged the scene to make it look like one of Kihyun's regular customers had broken in and taken him away. A jealous client, maybe. 

“It will keep them sniffing in the wrong direction for a couple days, hopefully,” Minhyuk explained to Hoseok. “ _Especially_ if you play it cool and lay low. Play ignorance.”

“But I want to be here,” Hoseok said, looking toward the door to the bedroom that had been left ajar. “With Kihyun.”

“We're not asking you to stay away. Just to be smart about your visits,” Hyungwon said. His long fingers rifled through the contents on the coffee table, the baggies of pills.

Hoseok sat back and sank into the cushions, seeing the reason behind the plan but not liking it. He wanted to be with Kihyun. He wanted to go to sleep with him and wake up with him and cook for him and feed him. He had been deprived Kihyun's presence for two months and wanted to make up for the time lost. But he knew that the longer he stayed in this apartment with Kihyun the more his father would question his whereabouts, and that was dangerous. “You'll take care of him when I'm not here,” Hoseok said, phrased as an order, but it sounded like a plea.

Minhyuk's returning smile was gentle, reaching his eyes. “Of course. Hyungwon, too. You can trust him.”

Hoseok nodded. “You've shown me that I can,” he said, looking to the door to the bedroom again. He could hear the porridge still bubbling away in its pot in the kitchen as his knee jiggled. After washing he had changed into a comfortable old t-shirt and sweatpants, and suddenly the clean, sharp smell of detergent struck his nose and made his eyes water. “I've still got two days of them thinking I'm in Japan. I can stay until then.”

“We'll set up camp out here,” Hyungwon said, nodding meaningfully at Minhyuk. “And we can go for a supply run now.”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk agreed. He caught Hyungwon’s eye and winked. “If we're not back in an hour, call the police.”

The absurdity of the request caught Hoseok off-guard, and he laughed breathlessly. He was so thankful for Minhyuk, he realized. He'd always been, but especially now. “Thank you,” he said to them both.

They left quietly, sensing this was something Hoseok needed, and Hoseok waited until the front door had closed and been locked again before rising from his seat on the couch. He padded over to the bedroom door and lingered at the jamb, taking a deep breath to prepare himself again for the shock of Kihyun's diminished appearance. Kihyun would be okay, he had to be. He was with Hoseok now and he was safe and Hoseok was going to make him healthy and whole again, no matter what it took.

He stepped into the bedroom. The light was a faint silver inside, filtering through the curtains covering the windows.

Kihyun was sitting up on the bed, knees pulled to his chest and arms looped around the tops of his shins, hugging himself. He had put his chin on top of his knees, making himself small, and he stared listlessly at something to the side of the bedroom.

Hoseok followed his gaze and saw that he had left the light on in the connecting bathroom. He strode forward, hastened by sudden urgency, and turned the light off with a click, turning to Kihyun. “I'm sorry,” he said, noticing the way Kihyun flinched -- but at his voice, or his appearance, or something else? He would think on this later. “Was the light bothering you?”

Kihyun's voice sounded like the rustling of dead leaves in autumn. “No. Who were you talking to out there?”

“It was just Minhyuk,” Hoseok said, moving slowly toward the bed. When Kihyun didn't flinch, Hoseok wondered if it had even registered with the boy that Hoseok was still in the room. His eyes had again taken on a dull sheen, and he wasn't quite looking at Hoseok. “And a friend of Minhyuk's, Hyungwon. They helped you get out, come here.”

Hoseok made it to the bed. Instead of sitting upon it in all the space Kihyun had left on the mattress, Hoseok got onto his knees on the floor beside the bed frame, and pillowed his head on his crossed arms on the edge of the mattress. Looked up at Kihyun and felt like a child waiting for his mother to tell him a bedtime story.

Kihyun's eyes traveled to land on Hoseok, slowly. Then he uncurled and lay down onto his side. He was so quiet. Hoseok felt his eyes filling again with wet warmth.

“I had dreams about you,” Kihyun said. “About this apartment.”

“This isn't a dream,” Hoseok said softly. He wanted to reach out and touch. “This is real and you're awake.”

“But what about me?”

Hoseok shifted so that he could bring his knuckles to brush across Kihyun's cheekbones, and Kihyun's eyelids fluttered shut, a breath caught and frozen behind his lips, like Hoseok's touch had dragged a sheet of ice over him. He shuddered.

“You're real, too,” Hoseok said. “And I'm going to take care of you, now. I'm going to take care of everything.”

“Everything,” Kihyun repeated. “Everything, everything, everything.”

“That’s right.” Hoseok combed his fingers through Kihyun’s short black hair next, and Kihyun arched against it like a kitten. “I’m going to take care of you. And everything is going to be okay.”

Kihyun was shaking, his eyes clenched shut tight. “How can you even touch me?” he asked in his faded voice. “If you knew the things I’d done--”

“The things done to you,” Hoseok interrupted, quick and decisive.

“No,” Kihyun said. “The things _I_ did.” His voice was thick and wet and when he opened his eyes they were brightest Hoseok had seen them since Minhyuk and Hyungwon had brought him back to him, bright with unshed tears. “The things I did for another hit.” He bit into his bottom lip to keep it from trembling, but the force of the tremors in his body was too strong, too desperate. It was like he was struggling to hold himself together, like something awful was clawing its way out inside of him. “I’m disgusting,” he said, delivered like a confession, his darkest secret.

“Baby,” Hoseok whispered, leaning in closer. He dared to press their foreheads together. Whatever was left of his heart was breaking inside of him at the way Kihyun spoke of himself, as Hoseok realized the enormity of what his father had done -- he’d dug into Kihyun's mind with his callous fingers and twisted the soft, malleable gray matter until it turned against him. “You’re not disgusting. I could never think that. You’re wonderful, and we’re going to get through this. Together. Please just trust me, okay? Just trust me.”

Kihyun was still shaking. His breath puffed against Hoseok's mouth. Hoseok wanted so badly to close the distance between their lips and to kiss him, but he didn't. Kihyun's hands came up and cupped Hoseok's cheeks. They looked at each other, and Kihyun's eyes were so black they seemed endless. “You should have left it alone.”

Hoseok’s blood ran cold looking into that abyss. “What? Left what alone?”

“Me,” Kihyun said. A wrinkle formed in his brow as he thought. “Left me there. Left me alone. Moved on. You have a wife. You could have kids. You _want_ kids. A home. Sounds nice. Not with me. But sounds nice.” 

“Baby,” Hoseok said again, pulling himself out of Kihyun's hold and rising to his feet. He shook his head even though he felt lightheaded enough to float. “You don’t mean that. You always wanted us to find a way.”

“It was never going to work out,” Kihyun said monotonously, robotically. “You and me. I should have known.”

“Y-you’re,” Hoseok started, chest feeling tight. It was like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs, crushing him. Kihyun had always been the more optimistic between them. He'd always believed in them when Hoseok thought they wouldn't stand a chance lasting. He'd always been the one to pick up Hoseok's pieces and put him back together when it seemed like they would have to give up and end what was between them.

Hoseok rolled his shoulders back, resolved. “You’re not yourself right now. It’s okay. Let’s get some food in you, okay? That will help. I made some porridge. I’m not the best cook but you can’t really fuck up over-boiled rice, right?”

“I’m not hungry,” Kihyun said as he turned over onto his other side, facing away from Hoseok.

Hoseok could see every knob in his vertebrae through his skin. He sighed, worried. “Even if you’re not, it’s probably been a few hours since you last ate, right? We should get some food in you.”

“I don’t want to eat,” Kihyun said plaintively. “It feels like nails going down.”

“The porridge will be really soft,” Hoseok said. “Just a few bites.”

It felt like forever waiting for a response, the air still between them, dust motes swirling slowly in a lazy dance in the air. Finally, Kihyun said, “Okay,” and Hoseok couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he dashed into the kitchen to prepare a small bowl of porridge for Kihyun to eat. He would spoon-feed Kihyun if he had to.

He’d do anything for him.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Hoseok carefully arranged the light meal on top of a small ceramic tray he didn’t remember ever purchasing but found in the cupboard. On it, he laid a small bowl of rice porridge, a glass of water, and some sheets of packaged, roasted seaweed. The clean, nutty smell of the rice filled his nose, and he felt a sense of purpose settle and center his heart in his chest. Kihyun would eat the porridge and drink the water. He would take the pills Changkyun provided them. He would sleep, and rest, and heal.

For the first time in a long while, Hoseok felt optimistic.

He carried the tray from the kitchen to the bedroom, footsteps as light as his heart felt in that moment. When he looked up from the tray -- he’d been monitoring the glass of water as every step he took seemed to be the one that would finally cause the glass to topple over and ruin everything -- Kihyun was not in bed anymore.

Hoseok’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t stop the gasp from slipping out from between his lips. The sheets were still rumpled. How long had he been in the kitchen? Only minutes, if even that. He looked to the window, but it was closed. Stepping forward, he hastily put the tray on the bedside table and noticed that the bathroom light was on again, and a shadow was moving behind the door.

So at least Kihyun had not run away, but Hoseok had no idea what he’d find on the other side of the door.

“Kihyun?” he called. “What are you doing in there?”

The shadow froze, and then faster than Hoseok had thought Kihyun capable in his state, Kihyun had pushed the door shut with a loud bang. Hoseok jumped at the noise and toward it, hand gripping the doorknob quickly and turning it before Kihyun could lock it. He pushed at the door with his shoulder and it gave, until it slammed into Kihyun’s body. Kihyun was pushing against it from the other side, trying to hold it shut.

“Kihyunnie,” Hoseok said as gently as he could while fighting against the barrier between them. “Are you okay? What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Kihyun said quickly, breathlessly, his voice pitched a little higher than normal. “Nothing, it’s nothing. God, is this what it’s going to be like? Just needed to use the bathroom, Hoseok.”

Hoseok frowned. The door gave a little more. He was stronger than Kihyun by a mile, but he didn’t want to hurt the other man. “What are you hiding?”

Kihyun insisted, “Nothing,” but still pushed against the door, even groaning from the effort.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok said, putting all the love he had into his voice. “Please, let me in.”

Kihyun was silent on the other side, and Hoseok inhaled a deep breath slowly, and when he exhaled and pushed, the door gave a little more, and then opened easily. Kihyun was standing by the sink counter, fingers idly tracing the white lid of the plastic orange bottle of prescription pills. He tipped the container to the side and it rolled into the bowl of the sink, unopened.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok sighed.

“I didn’t take any,” Kihyun promised, avoiding his eyes and lingering by the sink. “I just -- wanted to look. This was all you had, anyway.”

“I believe you,” Hoseok said, though his chest felt tight and hot. “Can you please give that to me? I’ll hold onto it.”

Kihyun didn’t move. Standing on his own, hands propped against the counter, Hoseok could see how thin he’d become. His ribs were visible beneath papery, pale skin. Hoseok had, many times over, told him he’d loved Kihyun’s body, from his full cheeks and sharp nose to the softness of his stomach and fullness of his thighs. But now Kihyun was just sharp, and jagged, and broken.

“Or I can get it myself,” Hoseok said, stepping forward into the bathroom, but Kihyun’s hand darted out into the sink to take the bottle. The pills rattled inside of it. “Okay, that’s fine," Hoseok said quickly but levelly, pausing. "Just give it to me.”

Kihyun held the bottle in his hands, examined it as though it were curiously alive. His thumb worried over the label on the bottle, and Hoseok waited with his hand outstretched.

Finally, Kihyun gave it to him. Hoseok felt the tension leak immediately from his muscles as his hand closed around the pill bottle. He put it in the pocket of his sweatpants and nodded, more for himself than for Kihyun, and said, “Okay. That’s good. Thank you, Kihyunnie. Now, I have the food ready for you. Do you think you can eat something for me?”

Kihyun was not paying attention to him anymore. Now that the pills were out of sight, he was focused on his reflection in the mirror over the sink that ran the length of the wall. Hoseok wondered what Kihyun saw. The smaller man's fingers trailed over the bandages taped over the cuts Hoseok had tended to along his sides, and he prodded at one of the bruises on his ribs and winced. And then his hands traveled up to his chest, where Hoseok had taped a large square bandage over the concentration of burns under his collarbone. Nails dug under the tape.

Hoseok started forward. “No, Kihyun, wait--”

But Kihyun had ripped the bandage down so that it hung from his body from just one piece of tape, revealing the burns. They were shiny with the ointment Hoseok had spread over Kihyun’s skin there. Hoseok hissed, feeling a shadow of sympathy pain in his own chest at the sight.

Kihyun’s breath shuddered. “Oh,” he said. He leaned forward and caught himself with his hands on the mirror, breathing hard. He looked at himself with fascination and disgust, hands closing into fists against the glass. “They’d put out their cigarettes.”

“Who?” Hoseok asked, inching closer slowly. He could sense Kihyun was on the verge of something -- rage or distress, he didn’t know, but there was a sharp electricity in the air. Hoseok could almost smell it.

“Anyone,” Kihyun said. “Anyone who wanted. After, during.” His shoulders rose and fell quickly, his cheeks growing red. “No better than an ashtray.”

“You’re not there anymore, baby,” Hoseok said. He was close enough now to touch, so he reached out his hand and brushed his finger over Kihyun’s bare shoulder. The way Kihyun reacted made it seem as though Hoseok had touched him with the hot end of a lit blowtorch. He jumped away from him, the back of his left knee banging against the rim of the toilet and throwing him off balance. Arms windmilling. Before he could bash his head open against the lip of the tub, Hoseok caught him by the wrist and heaved him forward, so that he crashed against Hoseok’s chest, instead.

Kihyun’s arms came around Hoseok’s waist, tight and sudden. He sank down to his knees, chest heaving, his breath whistling through his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please. I feel like shit. I need something. Please, Hoseok. _Please_.”

Hoseok ran his fingers through Kihyun’s hair, bewildered by the seesaw of emotions coming from him. Usually, Kihyun was so steady. Easily excitable, sure, but Hoseok had always loved that about him. Now he was oscillating so quickly between calm and grief and anger and anxiety that Hoseok didn't know what to do. But he wouldn't have Kihyun on his knees before him, begging.

Slowly, he pulled him up from his knees and made him stand so that he could fix the bandage over his chest, smoothing the tape over his skin again. Tears ran down Kihyun’s cheeks, splashing against his collarbones and rolling down over his pecs. Hoseok said, “I love you, Kihyun. We’re going to get through this.”

“No,” Kihyun said, frantic and frazzled. He bit his lip hard enough for it to bleed. “I’ll die without it.”

“You won’t. I got -- we got help from a doctor. He gave us something that will help.”

“Pills?” Kihyun said hopefully. His eyes caught Hoseok’s suddenly, lucid and bright. “What kind?”

“The kind that will help you,” was all Hoseok said. “And you’re not getting any until you eat something.”

“Then I’ll eat something,” Kihyun promised, still crying a little bit. Hoseok realized he couldn't control it. He was reminded of a child pleading his mother or father for a new toy. Only the new toy here was a high.

They’d gravitated closer to each other. Hoseok’s hands were draped over the narrow crests of Kihyun’s hips, and Kihyun’s hands were on Hoseok’s shoulders. Kihyun looked at Hoseok with unadulterated trust in his eyes, and Hoseok's heart filled to bursting all over again at the sight. “God,” Hoseok said, “I want to kiss you.”

“Go ahead,” Kihyun said, licking his lips, but Hoseok wondered if it would mean anything. If it would mean the same thing to them both. If Kihyun would see the kiss as shared between two people who loved each other or as a means for him to get the pills Hoseok promised.

Hoseok leaned forward, realizing that he didn’t care. It had been so long since he’d been able to kiss Kihyun, to feel him in his arms like this. He kissed him and tasted blood and relished it, because it was a part of Kihyun he was tasting. Kihyun parted his lips easily for Hoseok to dart his tongue into his mouth. He fell against Hoseok’s body as the kiss heated, as Hoseok sucked on Kihyun’s bottom lip, as Hoseok’s hands roamed down to curve over Kihyun’s ass. Hoseok squeezed, and Kihyun’s breath hitched against Hoseok’s mouth, a little squeak of surprise.

Hoseok kissed him harder, crowding Kihyun now against the sink. He loved Kihyun’s body, he always had. His hands kneaded the muscle of the backs of Kihyun’s thighs, and Kihyun sighed breathily into Hoseok’s ear, nuzzling his cheek against Hoseok’s as Hoseok trailed his lips down Kihyun’s neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hoseok whispered, as his fingers brushed over the bandages. Kihyun whined and didn’t say anything. Hoseok dipped his hands under the waistband of Kihyun’s pants, groping Kihyun’s ass again, but this time it was just skin on skin, dry and hot and smooth. His thumb brushed down the cleft between his two cheeks.

“Stop,” Kihyun said weakly, panting noisily. “I can’t.”

Hoseok’s mind was a haze, but something in Kihyun’s tone pulled at him, hooked him and drew him out. He leaned back, blinking the cloud from his eyes. “What?”

Kihyun was avoiding his gaze again, biting his lips, now a delicious, cherry red. He said again, “I can’t. I can’t, Hoseok. Not yet.”

Hoseok sucked in a breath, realizing how far he’d gone with what he'd meant to be just a kiss. He drew his hands out from under Kihyun’s clothes and held his waist instead. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either,” Hoseok said emphatically. Kihyun winced again. Hoseok could tell he didn’t believe it. He sighed and tenderly brushed a stray lock of Kihyun’s hair that had fell across his forehead behind his ear. “I love you, Kihyunnie. So much. It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know if I believe you yet,” Kihyun admitted in a small voice. “I’m scared, Hoseok.”

He looked fragile again, just brittle bones and skin, and Hoseok gathered him into his arms as he shook. He’d let Kihyun shake against him for as long as he needed. He would become Kihyun’s wall to lean on.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Hoseok said. “I’ve got you now.”

.


	4. Chapter 4

Hoseok helped Kihyun get back into bed, sitting him up against the headboard and pulling the covers over his lap. When he was settled, Kihyun looked at the food on the tray with dread and didn't even try to reach for it, so Hoseok made him shift over a bit more on the mattress so that he could sit beside him on the bed, the tray set onto his own lap. He spoon-fed Kihyun little bites of porridge, hand cupped under the spoon, under Kihyun's chin, murmuring his thanks to Kihyun for eating, for trying.

Kihyun screwed his eyes shut tight as his throat bobbed when he swallowed, and Hoseok could tell he wasn't lying when he said it hurt to eat. He wondered why and how and wanted to cry when one bite after the first few made Kihyun cough and sputter. Hoseok hastily took the napkin from the tray and held it to Kihyun's mouth, Kihyun's smaller hands coming up to press the cloth there himself as he hacked up his lungs.

“I'm sorry,” Hoseok said, when the coughing had died down. Kihyun hunched over himself, napkin still pressed to his face, eyes wet. He was shaky again, his thin shoulders trembling.

“I'm done,” he said in a weak voice. “I'm full.”

“You hardly ate,” Hoseok said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice and knowing he had failed when Kihyun only shrank into himself further.

“I feel sick,” Kihyun softly, wretchedly, behind the napkin.

They didn’t say anything for a moment, at an impasse. Hoseok was reminded, suddenly, of his mother, her perpetually drawn curtains and the shadowy darkness of her bedroom. She’d passed away when Hoseok was very young. She’d been sick. That’s what his father told him, anyway.

Hoseok swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We’ll try again later,” he said firmly but gently, leaving no room for debate. After a tense silence, Kihyun gave him a tiny nod and crumpled up the napkin into his fist. Hoseok couldn’t help but to curve his hand around the back of Kihyun’s skull, around the base of his nape, to bring him close and to kiss the crown of his head. He felt more than heard Kihyun sigh as he pulled away.

He began to push himself from the bed, taking the tray and half-eaten bowl of porridge with him, but Kihyun reached out and put his fingers against Hoseok’s elbow, his touch tepid, uncertain. Hoseok looked up at him hopefully.

Kihyun said, “...the pills?”

And Hoseok scowled, pulling away again. “I’ll bring them,” he promised. “Just sit tight.”

.

Minhyuk and Hyungwon returned laden with plastic bags from the convenience store a couple of blocks down around mid-morning, when the sun was white light in the sky, bright and unfiltered. Hoseok debated moving from where he was: Kihyun had taken the cocktail of pills Hoseok brought to him without question or hesitation, and twenty minutes later he was curled up with his head in Hoseok’s lap on the bed, staring dully at the wall, lethargic and mostly unresponsive, his hand curled over Hoseok’s knee. Hoseok had put him in an old, soft sweater that hung off his frame.

He was fine, Kihyun had insisted when Hoseok prodded, just numb. Blessedly numb. Sometime between then and now, his eyes had fallen shut as Hoseok threaded his fingers through his hair in slow, repetitive motions, but Hoseok knew he wasn’t asleep yet. Minutes passed like this, where Hoseok could imagine they were just spending a normal morning together, Kihyun napping in his lap and Hoseok lovingly combing through his hair. Maybe they could go out for lunch together soon.

The two con men were unloading their purchases in the kitchen. Hoseok could hear them opening and closing the cabinet and cupboard doors, could hear the rustling of plastic, could hear the murmur of their light conversation. He heard the words 'hospital' and 'detox' and knew Kihyun wouldn't be able to join him on an outing for lunch today, tomorrow, or even the next day. 

Tomorrow morning he’d have to leave for Japan to fake his return from his business trip there. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here with Kihyun forever, to forget all of his other obligations, his other life, his father, the family. He could stay here and pretend he hadn’t been groomed from birth to take over a crime syndicate that had started creeping its tendrils into cities overseas. He could pretend Kihyun had never worked in a club owned by his father. He could pretend they met somewhere nice and normal, like college, at a party, in class, and they could start over. They could be happy.

Kihyun blinked slowly, his lashes long over his cheeks, when he felt something wet fall upon his skin. Hoseok was crying. Kihyun turned slowly in Hoseok's lap, watched with a distant fascination in his eyes from his place on his thighs, lips slightly parted.

“I can’t stop crying,” Hoseok admitted shamefully. “I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

“Your father,” Kihyun said, each word seeming to need the effort of a full breath. “He never laid a hand on me.”

“I don’t care,” Hoseok said. “He gave the orders.”

Kihyun blinked again, shifting to stare at the wall. His thumb rubbed against Hoseok’s knee, back and forth, back and forth, offering comfort. “Did you know,” he started, “every needle, every cigarette, every man -- I kind of wished it had been you. It might have hurt less. I could have done it, if it was you.”

“I’d _never_ hurt you,” Hoseok said. Shock had stilled his heart. His lungs felt like they’d been punctured full of holes. 

Kihyun said, “I know, baby.” He was still rubbing Hoseok's knee gently, as though that could soften what he'd said. He closed his eyes again. This time, Hoseok couldn’t tell when he drifted off to sleep.

.

The truth was that Hoseok had been preparing to leave the family since before he even met Kihyun -- he’d created aliases, accounts, bought property all over the world. He’d always known he could never truly take his father’s place. He was too soft. He cared too much. Deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew his father was what tore his mother apart.

But he’d never had a reason to leave, a catalyst, until he met Kihyun that night in the club. Kihyun, whose smile could rival the brightness of the sun. Who became Hoseok’s one respite from his father’s world. Who always welcomed him with open arms, an open heart.

And Hoseok felt that he had taken that warmth, that brightness, and he’d crushed it under his heel like it was a moth.

.


	5. Chapter 5

While Kihyun slept, Hoseok sat with Minhyuk and Hyungwon in the living room, strategizing. Hoseok would stay just one more night before he would have to re-enter the world he’d left behind for a few days to keep up appearances. He trusted Minhyuk with his life and even with Kihyun’s -- and he would have to trust Hyungwon as well -- and he told them so as they talked about how Minhyuk and Hyungwon would keep watch over Hoseok's apartment and its precious occupant while he was gone. So far, Hyungwon had done nothing but help him, but there was a little niggling feeling in the back of his mind that made him wonder when Hyungwon planned to call in the debt Hoseok would owe him after this.

“I’d give it a week,” Hyungwon was saying, explaining what to expect throughout the detox process. Minhyuk was lounging on the couch beside him, head tipped back over the cushions, looking like he was trying very hard to stay awake. Hyungwon always looked a little sleepy ever since Hoseok met him, so he was more difficult to gauge. “Given how much was in his system, the withdrawal is probably going to be the worst after about four or five days. Hoseok, I think you should be here during that time.”

Hoseok nodded, grim. “I can tell Dasom I’m working late and that I’ll be staying overnight in the office. I do it often enough that it shouldn’t be too suspicious, if at all.” He paused, licking his lips and flicking his eyes to the partially closed bedroom door. “What’s it going to be like?”

Hyungwon thought for a moment. Minhyuk, on the other side of him, leaned forward in interest. “Like a really bad fever,” Hyungwon said. “But then a little bit worse. He probably won’t be able to sleep, and, uh, sometimes you get -- sad.”

Hoseok connected the dots himself. “So I should be here in case he tries to hurt himself?”

“That’s the ticket,” Hyungwon said.

“I’ll be here,” Hoseok promised, but he felt numb. The Kihyun he knew carried a brightness within him that seemed unmatched: the bridge of his nose crinkled cutely when he laughed; he reached out unabashedly with warm, gentle touches both to give and to receive comfort; he blushed and cringed good-naturedly when shown a modicum of admiration or affection. He was both shy, and not; loud, and not. He could always pull Hoseok’s self-deprecating, black moods from him as easily as thread from a spool and make him smile.

Maybe it was hopeless to want that Kihyun back.

.

Kihyun slept -- or pretended to sleep -- until the late afternoon, when the light had changed to a warm amber, and for all that time Hoseok had lain next to him, watching him, memorizing him, drawing the covers up over Kihyun’s shoulders again whenever Kihyun shifted ever so slightly. Hoseok had checked into his flight back to Japan on his phone, reviewed the steps he’d take to return to Seoul as though he had spent a couple of days in Tokyo and not in a secret apartment tucked away on the outskirts of Seoul. Minhyuk and Hyungwon themselves were catching up on sleep in the living room.

Hoseok felt the bed shift and immediately put his phone to the side, turned to Kihyun, who was blinking blearily and licking his lips. He squinted at Hoseok, and then at his surroundings, and Hoseok reminded him, “We’re in my apartment outside Seoul, remember?”

Slowly, Kihyun nodded. He said, “How long did I sleep?” His voice was still a shadow of its former, vibrant self, wispy at the edges.

“A couple of hours,” Hoseok said. “It’s late afternoon.”

“Were you here this whole time?”

Hoseok wasn’t sure what kind of answer Kihyun was hoping for, so he just told him the truth: “Yes. I was.” He reached out and touched Kihyun’s hair, and when the other man didn’t pull away, carded his fingers through the soft black locks.

Kihyun hummed, so Hoseok figured the question wasn’t any sort of test that he had failed. His breath caught in his throat when Kihyun shifted closer, to put his head on Hoseok’s thigh. Kihyun draped his thin arm across Hoseok’s legs, sighing. He said, “The pills are wearing off. I know that saying this stuff disappoints you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hoseok said immediately, ashamed, his cheeks warming. He hadn’t realized Kihyun had picked up on how upset he was earlier, but then Kihyun had always been perceptive, especially when it came to Hoseok. “It’s not your fault. And you’re just -- anyway, it’s not your fault. You’re only supposed to have one dose a day, though.”

Kihyun shuddered, silent, and then his fingers tightened into a fist over Hoseok’s thigh. Hoseok felt something wet seep through the cloth of his pants, and he realized Kihyun was crying again, and now Kihyun's shoulders were shaking. Hoseok wanted to cry, too, watching him. He reached down to gather Kihyun against his chest, and they shifted so that the smaller man was in his lap, his face pressed against Hoseok’s neck as he sobbed almost silently, like he was being careful not to make too much noise.

“I’m sorry,” Kihyun said again, “Crying over drugs -- fuck. It just hurts so much and I think I’m losing my mind.”

“But you understand, right?” Hoseok said quickly. He had seen a glimpse of the Kihyun he had fallen in love with and he grasped at him desperately. “You understand what’s happening? And why?”

“I do,” Kihyun said. “And I’m going to thank you and Minhyuk and that other guy now before I forget to later, because I know later is going to be hard. I feel so empty without it. The dope. It’s like a big hole has opened up in my chest and it’s eating me from the inside out.”

Hoseok held him closer and nuzzled his cheek against Kihyun’s hair, rubbing his back as the sobs subsided. “Baby,” he said. “I love you so much, and you’re going to get through this.”

“What happens after this?” Kihyun asked quietly, drained from his outburst of tears.

“When you’re better,” Hoseok said just as quietly, “we get out of here. You, me, and freedom. Won’t that be good?”

He felt Kihyun’s hand close into a fist against his chest, Kihyun’s lips against the side of his neck in a shy, gentle kiss.

Kihyun said, “It sounds like a dream, Hoseok.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, my goal is that there is another part but we shall see

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. comments are appreciated <3 also please let me know if you think i should tag something that hasn't yet been tagged
> 
> also i don't know much about heroin detox, just what i'm reading and finding online so...yeah


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